Faery Tales & Nightmares by Melissa Marr

Dark Court—was different in this as well. They took in toxins to no ill effect. For a moment she was envious. He made her feel so many untoward feelings—envy, lust, rage. It was not appropriate for the queen of the Court of Reason to be filled with such things. It was one of the reasons why she’d forbade members of the Dark Court from returning to Faerie. Only the Dark King had consent to approach her.
    But he’s not the king anymore .
    She felt a twinge of regret. She couldn’t justify giving in to his presence now, not logically.
    And logic is the only thing that should matter. Logic. Order .
    Irial kept his back to her while her emotions tumbled out of control. “I want to know why Bananach comes here.”
    “To bring me news.” Sorcha began reasserting her self-control.
    Enough indulging .
    The former Dark King was kind enough to not look at her as she struggled with her emotions. He stared out the window as he asked, “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what news?”
    “No. I won’t.” She took her seat again, calm and in control of her emotions.
    “Did it have to do with Niall?” Irial looked at her then. This odd honesty they had shared over the centuries was something she’d miss now that he was no longer the Dark King. No one save her brother and Irial saw this side of her.
    “Not directly.”
    “She is not meant for ruling,” Irial reminded her. “When she took the throne before… I wasn’t there, but I heard the stories from Miach.”
    “She is a force of destruction that I would not unleash. I will never support her, Irial. I’ve no quarrel with Niall”—she frowned—“aside from the usual objections to the mere existence of the Dark Court.”
    And Irial smiled at her, as beautiful and deadly as he’d always been. King or not, he was still a force to fear. Like Bananach. Like the Summer Queen’s mortal . Often it was the solitary ones who were the most trouble; the tendency toward independence was not something that sat well with the High Queen. It was un-orderly.
    He was watching her, tasting the edges of her emotions and believing she was unaware of what he was doing. So she gave him the emotion he craved most from her, need. She couldn’t say it, couldn’t make the first move. She counted on him to do that. It absolved her of responsibility for the mistake she intended to make.
    If he were to realize that she knew the Dark Court’s secret, their ability to feed on emotions, she’d lose these rare moments of not being reasonable. That was the prize she purchased with her silence. She kept her faeries out of the Dark Court’s reach, hid them away in seclusion—all for this.
    The Queen of Reason closed her eyes, unable to look at the temptation in front of her, but unwilling to tell him to depart. She felt him remove the cord that bound her hair.
    “You need to say something or give me some clear answer. You know that.” His breath tickled her face, her throat. “You can still call it a horrible mistake later.”
    She opened her eyes to stare directly into his abyss-dark gaze and whispered, “Or now?”
    “Or now,” he agreed.
    “Yes.” The word was barely from her lips before she wrapped her arms around him and gave up on being reasonable for a few hours.
    Afterward, Sorcha sat and replaited her hair while Irial reclined on the floor next to her. He never provoked her or pointed out the truth of their relationship during these quiet moments.
    He smoked silently until she picked up her garments from the floor. When she held the pale cloth to her chest and turned her back to him, he extinguished his cigarette, moved her braid over her shoulder, and fastened the tight bindings.
    “Bananach always presses for war … but things feel different this time,” she admitted.
    Part of politics for them had always been admissions that weren’t public knowledge. During Beira’s reign, Irial had come to her for solace; when he lost Niall, he had come to her for comfort; and when